The Final Journey
by SpencerRemyLvr
Summary: A short, angsty one-shot that one day I may turn into more. Spencer takes a final journey to see his friends. This is a Gen one, no slash in here. Amazing, I know! :)


**Here's something that I wrote that's technically a one shot, though I have really thought about turning it into something longer. I wrote it a while ago and have done nothing with it since then, though it tugs at me now and again. I thought I'd go ahead and post it and see what all of you think of it! :D Sad and angsty, people, be forewarned.**

* * *

It was one of the hardest things that Spencer Reid had ever done, standing in the living room of his apartment and packing away the pieces of his life. He looked down at the book in his hands, the very last item to be packed away, and he had to swallow back the lump that built in his throat. He had known for years that his life would come to this. Ever since he was a young teen. Still, even with all that time to prepare, it didn't make it any easier. It didn't help with the ache that had settled in his heart. But there was no other choice. There was nothing else that he could do. He'd held off as long as he could—too long, if he were honest. It was time.

Saying goodbye to his friends had been the most difficult. More so than any of them realized. To them, it was bad enough that Spencer was quitting his job and moving away. They had no idea just how bad it really was. There was no way that he could tell them the true reason he was leaving. Instead, he told them one of the biggest lies he'd ever told. He told them that he'd gotten a job offer that he couldn't refuse and that it was going to take him overseas for the next couple of years. When they pressed for details, he'd simply told them that the information was classified. Of course they'd believed him. Why wouldn't they? As far as they knew, Spencer had never lied to them before. And it was entirely feasible that their resident genius would be recruited into something. They all knew how many offers he'd fielded over the years. So they took him at his word and, though they let him know just how desperately he'd be missed, they all congratulated him on a job he pretended to be very excited for.

Lying to them had left a sick feeling in Spencer's stomach. Yet, the alternative was worse. Better that they think that he was overseas, happily working on some classified project, than know what was really going on. Better that they never have to learn the truth. None of them even knew that Spencer was a mutant; he couldn't tell them that his power was killing him, just as he'd always known it would.

A soft sigh slid from Spencer as he picked up the packing tape and sealed off the box. There. Everything was done. His whole life, packed away into these boxes, waiting to be taken away. He'd arranged for all of it to be picked up and shipped to the storage facility that still held his mother's things in Vegas. Derek had promised to be here tomorrow to oversee it all and to turn in his key when it was done. The power had already been shut off and all his bills had been paid. Every detail had been looked at and planned for. Nothing was left loose. All of his money had been transferred into one account, putting his balance sky high, and he'd arranged for it to stay active and for the monthly payments to come out automatically for his mother's care. He'd even made sure to lay out a believable paper trail so that, if anyone like Penelope took the time to try and check out his story, there would be evidence to back him up and keep them from getting suspicious.

There was only one thing left to do. Spencer gathered up the big army surplus duffle bag that was sitting in the entryway and he slung it carefully over his shoulder. Then he turned to give his apartment one last look. He'd had quite a few good times here. Bad times as well, yes, but plenty of good. Here, he had been happy. He'd made a life for himself. When he'd first moved in, just starting at the academy, he'd been so full of hopes and dreams. So full of life. Ready to take on the world and all that it handed him, no matter what else it tried to throw his way. He'd been determined to make the best of the lot he'd been handed and live life to its fullest in the time that he had.

Now, almost eight years later, that was all over. Spencer adjusted the bag and turned his back on the apartment. On his old life. He shut the door and locked it behind him. Then he set off down the staircase, never once looking back. It was time to move on. Time to accept what he'd been trying to deny for too long. Chin held high, he headed downstairs and outside, his stride steady as he went to his car. He'd sold his last one to the boy down the street and had bought a simple little Ford Escort. His previous car wouldn't have made the trip he needed to make.

With his bag settled into the passenger's seat, Spencer slid into the driver's seat. He took one last moment to look around him and say a silent goodbye. Then he put his key in the ignition, turned the car on, and he was on his way.

* * *

It was almost five hours later that Spencer arrived at his destination. As he pulled up in front of the large mansion, he found himself breathing a sigh of relief. He was here. Though he'd been dreading this trip for so very long, now that he was here he could only feel relief. This was the final stop for him; the place he never expected to return from. This would be where the story of Spencer Reid would quietly come to its final chapter. That was both terrifying and yet strangely comforting. Here, he wouldn't be alone in dealing with this. Here, he would be with people who knew what was going on and who had helped him to plan for this. Here, he would be cared for.

He parked his car right up front, near the entrance. For just a second after he shut the car off he let himself slump slightly with the exhaustion that was weighing at him. Then he pushed it back and made himself move. Just a little further. Just a little bit further and he could finally rest from these past few frantic weeks. He'd done all that he could do, all that had needed to be done. Now all he had to do was get out of the car and make his way over to the door. Spencer gathered his strength and straightened his spine. Then he picked up his bag and climbed out of the car.

Just as he shut the driver's door, the front door to the house opened. Spencer found himself standing there looking up at his old friend. Scott Summers watched with a gentle, welcoming smile as Spencer made his way over to him, carefully climbing the stairs. When Spencer got close, Scott tipped his head and gave him a questioning look, which Spencer answered with a nod. Scott reached out and wrapped Spencer in a short, careful hug. "I'm glad you made it safely. I worried the whole time." Scott murmured. He pulled back and smiled at Spencer. "I wish you would've let me come and pick you up."

"I needed to make the drive." Spencer said. He'd made the explanation before and he knew Scott understood.

Scott gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze before letting go of him. With a gesture of his hand, Scott led the way inside. "We've got a room ready for you. We put you out in the boathouse, so you're safely secluded while still being close. We did a few renovations to make sure it was comfortable and safe there for you."

"Thank you." It sounded perfect. Right then it sounded like exactly what he needed. A quiet, safe place to rest. He was tired in both body and spirit.

The two silently made their way out of the back of the house and down the yard. Scott led him along a trail that eventually brought them to the boathouse. Spencer didn't really pay attention to the details. He focused on putting one foot in front of the other and following Scott down the trail and then inside. The two made their way up a staircase and into a room. Only when Scott stopped did Spencer finally break his concentration enough to look up. What he found had a small smile curving his lips.

"Jean decorated." Scott explained. "She wanted things to be as comfortable and relaxing as possible in here for you. She hoped that it might make you feel a little more at home."

"She did a wonderful job. It's perfect."

It really was, too. The room was decorated like a haven for him. A king sized bed dominated the left half of the room, centered against the far wall, and decked out in dark red bedding with plenty of pillows. There was a dresser over there as well, on the same wall as the door, made in the same dark walnut that the bed was. On the wall right across from the door was a picture window with a cushioned window seat full of pillows, framed by curtains that matched the bedspread. On the far right wall was a door that he could see led to the master bathroom. Next to that door was a large dark walnut bookcase packed full of books. Beside it were a large, overstuffed chair and a chaise lounge, both of which looked comfortable enough to curl up in. There was a quilt done in warm fall colors hanging above the head of the bed and on the wall to Spencer's right was a beautiful watercolor of a cozy cabin in the forest.

All in all, the room was warm and welcoming. Someplace that a person could easily relax in. It was perfect. A beautiful shelter where Spencer would not only be safely away from people, but comfortable as well.

Scott smiled at the pleased look he could see on Spencer's face. He took note of it so he could show it to Jean later on. "She'll be glad you like it so much. She would've been here to welcome you, but she's in town on a supply run with Bobby and Betsy. She said to tell you that she'll be by later with some food for the kitchen downstairs, once you've had a chance to rest." Again, Scott tipped his head, and Spencer knew that the eyes behind the sunglasses were moving over him, looking him over from head to toe. When Scott's head tipped up to his face again, the man had a serious look. "Rest looks like what you need. You're practically dead on your feet. Come on, let's get you in bed."

With brisk efficiency, Scott had Spencer's bag over by the dress and he had hustled the young genius over to sit down on the bed. He was putting Spencer's clothes into the dresser while Spencer bent down to unlace his shoes. "You know," Spencer said teasingly. "If any of your team could see you right now, it would probably shock them. Do any of them realize what a mother hen you are underneath that leader persona?"

"Absolutely not." Scott looked over his shoulder and gave Spencer a mock glare. "And they're not going to find out, either."

Spencer chuckled and set his shoes off to the side. "Your glare doesn't scare me. What's the worst you could do to me, hm? I'm the guy with nothing left to lose."

He'd meant it as humor. Granted, a dark humor, but humor nonetheless. Yet Scott flinched almost like he'd been hit and his expression turned pained. "That's not funny, Spencer." Once more, his voice was soft, showing a side of him that Spencer knew very few got to see.

Pulling himself back onto the bed, Spencer laid down against the pillows, watching his friend put his stuff into the drawers. "It is what it is, Scott. Better to find humor in it than let it rip me apart inside, right? We can't change the inevitable."

"You don't know it's inevitable." The protest came almost immediately. "The Professor is still looking. He could find something to help you."

Spencer gave a sad shake of his head. "We knew this would happen, Scott. We've known practically since my powers manifested. The Professor's tried every trick he knows and everything he comes across to try and find a way to help me strengthen my shields. He even tried tracking down every lead he had on those rumors of empaths bonding to people to help keep their shields up." Spencer sighed and laid his head back, his eyes sliding shut. "None of it works. The empathy just keeps getting stronger and I can't block it out."

"I know." Scott said quietly.

"I'm overloading more frequently now and it takes me a little longer to come back each time. Eventually, I'm not going to come back. You know that, I know that, the Professor knows that. I've come to terms with that."

"It doesn't mean I have to like it."

"No, you don't." Opening his eyes once more, Spencer turned his head and looked over at Scott, who was now standing facing him, arms crossed over his chest. His anger and grief was easy to see and to feel and Spencer didn't hesitate to draw some of it in to relieve his friend a little. "I know you guys aren't going to give up, Scott. I understand and I respect that. I agreed to the terms you and the Professor laid out when we talked about this. Once it got bad enough, I packed up everything and I came here. That was what you guys asked of me. I'm here, and I don't plan on simply giving up and dying. I'll try whatever you guys come up with. But I'm going to be realistic about this and you should do the same. You need to accept the fact that there's a good chance that there's nothing you can do. You need to make peace with that. I don't want to spend whatever time I have left surrounded by denial."

A myriad of emotions passed over Scott's face. Part of Spencer registered them all; he was just too tired to really think about them. His shields were still holding at the moment, thank God, so he didn't have to truly _feel_ those emotions. He could simply lie there, eyes at half mast, and watch and wait.

His exhaustion must've been plain because Scott pushed all his tangled emotions away and he moved over towards the bed. "Slide up for a second, Spence. Let's get you under the covers at least. Hop up and shimmy out of those pants or else the belt will bother you while you're sleeping."

Spencer let the subject change, knowing he'd pushed Scott as far as he could right now. "Yes, mother." He said teasingly.

It took more energy than he liked for him to simply get up off the bed and remove his pants. While up, he also took off his button up shirt, leaving him in boxers and a t-shirt. Scott had the blankets pulled back so Spencer easily just slipped right into the bed. As soon as he laid down, Scott brought the blankets back up and actually tucked them in around him. Then he gathered up Spencer's dirty clothes and set them in a basket by the dresser. That done, he came back over to the bed, taking a seat on the edge. Spencer watched through eyes heavy with sleep.

The look that Scott gave him then was almost paternal. With one hand he reached out and smoothed Spencer's bangs back from his face. "Just get some sleep, Spencer. You're here and we'll take care of you now. You just sleep."

Spencer took his advice and gave in to his body's exhaustion. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep with the feel of a hand running through his hair and the friendly affection of his friend wrapping around him like a warm blanket.


End file.
